


Defective Parts

by CannibalLandKid



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Androids, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Robots, androidlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:06:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1363402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalLandKid/pseuds/CannibalLandKid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beneath the surface he was a delicate rainbow of wires, interconnected to wring life from computer chips and motherboards. Cables woven in a intricate design surging with electric life giving force. All that he was or would be I swaddled in skin almost translucent in its luminosity. He was a walking piece of art, something even the Greek gods would rage in envy over.</p>
<p>And yet, he was incomplete.</p>
<p>(Non-Beta)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defective Parts

Beneath the surface he was a delicate rainbow of wires, interconnected to wring life from computer chips and motherboards. Cables woven in a intricate design surging with electric life giving force. All that he was or would be I swaddled in skin almost translucent in its luminosity. He was a walking piece of art, something even the Greek gods would rage in envy over.

And yet, he was incomplete. Despite all my work he lays in a limbo between simple functionality and true life. I can make him walk, I can make him whisper the words I give to him, but that distinct light evades his eyes. Like a child he can do nothing for himself. He is void of free will or even a simple opinion.

I suspect the fault is mine. For all my sculpting, wiring, and programming I have made nothing more than a shell. Could I forge a soul I would trap it between my fingers and feel it’s heady warmth, and relish in its lively thrum, if only to force it into him. I would weep as it filled him up, leaving no crevice of his body barren. I would shout with joy as his eyes looked to me, his maker, for the first time, and I could behold that light I have so craved to see for years.

And with his coming from a god like position I would fall, and fall, and fall until I impacted with the life shattering pain of love. I would become his as he has been mine. Wrapped around his little finger I would shelter him from the hate and malice of the mortal world and I would show him only the beauty that words could only wish to explain.

His mind would grow with every new experience, until one day he would become a man of his own. And I his humble keeper, his friend.

But the world is not a fair place. We do not always get what we expect. Life unexpectedly and arbitrarily cuts from us what we want most so it may laugh at its own sense of irony. No, watching in horror I know this life is no friend of mine. 

Tears of anguish are the only thing I will shed this day. I watch him move in jerky trials and aborted attempts, his body failing him before my eyes. What had I done wrong? Was it punishment for playing god? After so long I had built him a soul if only from sacrificing a piece of my own. The result was the same, I had failed him.

He keeps looking to me, with those bright eyes I destroyed my life for. He had no words, but his eyes write a story urging me to read. Staring back at me is pain so vast i drown in it to the point where my breath will not come to me.

Suddenly, with a last stuttering movement cables and steal give way and he falls to the ground with a painful shriek. He looks up to me, and I can hear the grind of his joints as he raises an arm to me, his fingers reaching for me, begging.

It is in this moment the sound of rain hitting the roof evapurates under the heat of my own shame. My limbs go numb feeling the icy fear in my heart, the pain in my shoulder gone, the callouses on my fingers turn into nothing more than static carried away in the rampage of stimuli I struggle to take in. The world loses its natural melody of sound and is wrapped in cotton, his pain louder than anything this world or the next could produce. The sound of bombs in the dark crevices of my mind are now reduced to nothing more than crickets on a summer night, and I wonder how I ever found their impacts deafening. 

Finally, air cascades into my lungs, and the conflicting fire and ice that held me hostage abates, and I move.

**Author's Note:**

> Currently looking for Beta's!
> 
> Please leave a comment (but do keep in mind I eat the rude), Thank you for your time.


End file.
